


With my bare hands

by marmolita



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Power Play, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5513054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What made Titus angry was that he was so insignificant that Balem didn't even consider him competition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With my bare hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aeolians](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeolians/gifts).



> This was written for the Jupiter Ascending secret santa for the prompt, "Balem, Titus, love/hate, surprise." :D Warning for the stuff that's in the tags, basically.

Titus Abrasax did not get angry very often. When you've lived for thousands of years, you learn that it's not worth the energy to get angry about little things, or even big things. Besides, Titus was a hedonist; if it wasn't pleasurable to him he may as well not spare it any attention. He considered that he could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd been really, truly angry in the past 500 years, and then felt angrier at himself for allowing Balem to get under his skin and add one more to that small number.

It wasn't even that Balem conspired with Indrino Corporation to shut him out of a deal for a newly discovered small planet with excellent potential; it was that when he was confronted about it Balem honestly didn't even seem to realize he'd done it. That he'd made the alliance in order to prevent other third parties from encroaching on his market share, and it _hadn't even occurred to him_ that Titus was going to lose money as well.

What made Titus angry was that he was so insignificant that Balem didn't even consider him competition.

Titus slammed his fist into the ornate marble railing of the balcony, startling two green-plumed birds that had been resting there into flight. The landscape on Ethyris was one of the most beautiful in the Pollusion Galaxy; terraformed six millenia ago, it had three large moons hanging low in the soft purple sky, lush, colorful vegetation, and exquisitely detailed architecture. It was held by the Aegis as neutral ground, used often for these sort of business meetings, and it was probably worth more money than eighty percent of Titus's holdings. He made a face at the sunset, then stalked back into his room. Two avian splices waited to serve him, one with violet eyes and small glimmering gold feathers around her hairline and neck, one with a plume of bright red feathers instead of hair; he ordered them out without a second thought.

Sitting down on the chaise lounge, back pillowed on the arm rest and long legs stretched across the royal blue cushions, Titus took a moment to relish the feeling of anger. Not often felt, it was at least a change from the cool regularity of his everyday existence. His heart was beating fast, sweat gathering on his brow, and the small hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He clenched his fist, watching the nails bite curved marks into his palm. Strange, that after all these centuries, Balem could still push Titus to such extremes with so few words. Strange, that his brother's regard -- or lack thereof -- should mean so much to him.

Titus opened his hand and brought it to his mouth, sucking at the small prick of blood he'd drawn with a particularly sharp nail. To be honest, he didn't care whether Balem loved him or hated him; the thing that made him angry was Balem's indifference. He pictured Balem's haughty expression, the dismissive wave of his hand, the line of his shoulders under the drape of his cloak as he walked away. So _superior_. Sometimes, Titus wanted to rip the elaborate collar off and get his hands around his brother's throat.

He imagined what Balem's skin would feel like as he idly sucked the tip of one finger. Soft, most likely, not showing any sign of the damage that had ruined his vocal cords underneath. Pale, since it was hidden under high collars every day, perhaps with a sprinkling of freckles trailing down from his face. Titus pulled his finger out of his mouth and traced it down his own throat to his collarbone, spreading apart the fabric of his shirt before sliding his hand back up, squeezing lightly over the pulse points of his carotid arteries. His blood, already hot with anger, rushed even hotter through his veins as he considered what it would be like, to have control over Balem, to have him at his mercy.

_Lovely._

Titus kept the hand on his throat, applying light pressure, while his other hand slipped down, brushing over his chest, running along his ribcage, rubbing lightly over the growing bulge in his pants. If he had his hands around Balem's throat, he wondered, could he get Balem down on his knees? And wasn't that a gorgeous thought, Titus standing triumphant with Balem on his knees, Titus's hands around his throat? Would Balem beg for mercy?

If he begged for mercy, would Titus grant it?

He rubbed himself more firmly through his pants, suddenly and overwhelmingly aroused by the idea of Balem on his knees and begging. The catches on his slacks were easy enough to open, and then Titus moaned as he got his hand around himself, stroking steadily. It was a heady rush, to think of Balem being forced to acknowledge him. If he had him at his mercy, Titus could make Balem answer all the questions he'd been dodging as far back as he could remember. Did he really think Titus was worthless? Did he think Seraphi Abrasax would have birthed and raised a nobody?

All those carefully measured glances, all those times Balem just happened to visit as Titus was emerging from his RegeneX baths, naked and youthful -- was Balem really indifferent to him in every way?

Titus licked his palm and sped up his pace, drawing up one leg and leaning his head back on the cushions, his other hand pressing tighter against his arteries until he began to feel lightheaded. His body began to tense up and then--

"I hope you're not actually committing suicide like that. It would make quite a mess of your estate."

Titus released his grip on his throat and opened his eyes, but kept his other hand moving, slower and more deliberately. As the world swam back into view, he acknowledged Balem standing just inside the doorway, coolly observing him. One of the avian splices stood beside him, apologetic expression on her face. Ah, well, he'd bought her for pleasure, not for security. Titus jerked his head at her and she left, bowing as she closed the door behind her. "What a surprise to see you here, Balem. I thought by now you'd be halfway across the galaxy."

"Tell me, what were you thinking about, just now?" Balem's voice was quiet and breathy, inscrutable as always.

"Choking you with my bare hands," Titus replied, tone light despite the heaviness of his breathing. Balem's surprise appearance might have startled him away from orgasm, but he'd be damned if he was going to let the man prevent him from getting off. He licked his palm again, not breaking eye contact with Balem, and started stroking himself faster. Titus knew what he looked like; Balem may have had the lion's share of the Abrasax fortunes, and he may have had the Abrasax temper, but when it came to the Abrasax beauty, Titus was confident that he outmatched his brother. He angled himself for better presentation, free hand playing with the buttons at the collar of his shirt, spreading it open to display his collarbones. If he was going to be watched he might as well put on a show.

"Killing me wouldn't give you any of my holdings."

"I don't want to kill you," Titus gasped, twisting his hand around the head of his cock while his other hand skimmed over a nipple through the thin fabric of his shirt. He always enjoyed being watched, but having Balem's gaze fixed on him was maddening. "Just . . . ahhh . . . make you beg."

Balem smiled, that awful, sliding smile that never reached his eyes. Titus wanted to wipe it off his face -- whether with his fists or with his lips, he wasn't quite sure. He twisted his hand again, head tilting back and lashes lowering as he jerked himself harder, squeezing his fist tighter around his cock.

_"I. Don't. Beg."_ Balem hissed, and Titus came hard, moaning low and breathy, messing his shirt and slacks.

He caught his breath, wiping his hand on the leg of his already ruined pants. When he finished tucking himself back in, he glanced back up at Balem. "Was there something you wanted, brother?"

Balem regarded him impassively. "Krixis Indrino wants to know where you get your pleasure splices. _If_ you decide to sell him some, don't negotiate on price. He's quite desperate." With that, Balem turned and left, leaving Titus to ponder first why Balem would help him with a business deal, and second why he would come in person to tell him what could easily have been sent by FTL, or by having a servant bring the message.

Perhaps he was not so indifferent after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ade for beta!


End file.
